The Not so Lolita Experience
by xeye
Summary: Ichigo falls prey to someone's fetish. AU Yaoi Byakuya/Ichigo Smut Swearing


I do not own Bleach

**Warnings:** Yaoi, smut, language, oocness, ridiculousness, inadequate lubrication ._.

* * *

**The Not so Lolita Experience**

X

"Welcome," Ichigo continued to bitterly recite as uncontrolled throngs of customers trampled past the shop's entrance like stampeding cattle. Woman, both young and old, gushed freely at the spectacle that was now Ichigo.

Ichigo cursed his life for the hundredth time today.

ooo

_"No way in hell."_

_Ichigo's face paled at the sight that met him. A glob of frills and lace and god-knows-fucking-what regarded him from atop the shop's counter, its implication triggering Ichigo's gag reflex._

_Following a painful defeat, after having had the ballsy audacity to agree to one of his roommate's sudden drinking matches; the woman a true virtuoso in the arts of alcoholism, wagering, and breast suffocation, Ichigo was now at the woman's beck and call._

_He figured his incidental inebriation at the time had played a plentifully large role in his momentary lapse of judgment and it was only after his face's unearthly encounter with the floorboards that Ichigo came to realize just how direly fucked he was._

_"I ain't doing it."_

_"I don't recall this being a matter of choice." Rangiku said flatly. The busty blonde crossed her arms before her tightly corseted chest, foot tapping impatiently._

_"Well it is now!"_

_Freeing her arms, she flicked her finger over to the nauseating article in careless disposition. "Today, you cater to my whims. Deal with it. It's two hours till opening."_

_"_That _is a fucking dress!"_

_"I'm well aware."_

_"What makes you think I'd ever be caught dead wearing that?!"_

_"We had a deal." she simply said. "Besides, the alternative is three months rent. If you've got it, fork it up and we can call it a day."_

_"You know I can't do that!"_

_Ichigo was outraged by the woman's cynicism. She knew fully well after draining his wallet of only half a month's rent he could barely afford to splurge on cup noodles. To think they'd been practically joined at the hip for the past five years. He was returning the toaster oven he'd brought her for her birthday. Baneful bitch._

_"Come on Ran," he pleaded, nonetheless._

_Rangiku simmered over besides him, gripping him tentatively by the forearms. "I'm sorry Ichi. Really I am. But I need you to do this for me." Settling her head atop his shoulder, her lips pursed into a tight pout. "And besides," she mumbled pseudo-innocently. "I nearly got alcohol poisoning from that bet you know."_

_Ichigo practically scoffed. It'd be easier for the alcohol to become ill._

_"Why on earth would you want me to put on a dress?" he asked exasperatedly, beginning to feel the inevitability of his situation weigh in on him._

_Rangiku heaved a breath, detaching herself from the male and propping herself atop the counter with a soft grunt and a cross of her legs. "Look Ichigo, it's nothing against you,"_

_He gravelly doubted that._

_"I'm only being a smart saleswoman .The store's opening party is tonight. Many guests will be hoarding the shop, most of these guests as you may already know- young women. Now look at this, if they come in and actually witness the beauty of my Lolita inspired fashion dressed onto such a handsome young man-"_

_Ichigo scoffed._

_"- I'll have them practically eating out of the palms of my hands."_

_"So you want me to attract needy women, s'that it?" Ichigo failed to coincide with her logic._

_She sighed. "If you want to see it as such, then yes. That's all there is to it." With a nonchalant shrug, she finalized, "It's all about properly marketing your merchandise."_

_Ichigo groaned, the bitter essence of defeat slowly welling his stomach._

_"You're not cutting me any slack with this one are you?" he mumbled tiredly, hand scraping at his scalp._

_"No." Rangiku allowed the smug smirk Ichigo knew to have been brewing beneath that modest facade of hers to finally graze her lips, as she figured herself to quite accurately have successfully railed in her sucker. _

ooo

"Shit…" Ichigo muttered beneath his breath as he continued to stumble on himself like a newborn calf. _'How the hell do women put up with this shit?'_ he wondered contemptuously, vision casting down the sheer knee-highs now decorating his legs and towards the excruciatingly high, white Mary Janes Rangiku had forced upon him -those of which he only wished to cram down her giddy throat along with the rest of the unsightly getup.

A snug, lavender-hued dolly dress, bedecked in lace trims and lucid embroidery hugged his upper body like saran wrap, the garment fanning out into a slight cupcake skirt past his hips atop a bundled petticoat and stopping short of his knees, lace gloves and lace-

He stared down at his concealed crotch, cringing.

And to top the magnificent cluster-fuck, a large primrose bow sat atop his orange locks as the cherry on top, because as Rangiku had pointed out, the bow found a way to indiscriminately soften his sharp features without compromising his boyish charm. And really, who wouldn't want th- _'Fuck it all!'_

Ichigo cursed beneath his breath, his masculinity draining through the cracks more and more by passing second.

He'd get Rangiku back for this if it killed him. He simply couldn't wrap his mind around just why of all the things she could have possibly asked of him, this was the one chosen; her given reason proving about as bogus to Ichigo as her breasts.

Whatever the case, Ichigo's time was now divided between welcoming every new entry, his recurring stumbling on account of the irksome heels he was now forced to endure, his callous sneering sessions with the often impertinent customers conveniently blind to specified boundaries - few having the galls to brush their hands past his manly intimates under the rather half-baked pretense of admiring the fabric's texture, though he was damn sure that groping his ass wouldn't provide much information on that, and his finger's assault of the underwear wedged between his cheeks.

Besides the frisky lassies trying to occasionally cop a feel, the men seemed to be getting quite the kick out of this little engagement themselves. What the hell where men even doing at this sort of event? He could only assume they'd been dragged here involuntarily just as he had. Thing was, they weren't the ones made to wear a dress, so they should feel at least relatively at ease. Not that their spirits seemed at all too compromised, if their libidinous stares and pitched tents served as any indication.

Ichigo knitted his brows. He swung around just in time to catch a hand feathery grazing his ass.

"Hey buddy," Ichigo snatched the appendage away, forcefully hooking his nails into the perpetrator's wrist. "'Less you want that hand shoved so far up your ass you can grip your entrails, I suggest you keep it off mine."

The eye-patched degenerate winced, yanking his hand from Ichigo's angry clutch. He smirked slyly, an alignment of piano-like teeth ripping through his two-wide set of lips, as he massaged his aching carpal. "Oh I'm sure yer the one who wouldn't mind these fingers goin' up that pretty little ass of yers."

After the smug remark the man leisurely sauntered off, sending Ichigo a small wink to grace his departure.

"Son-of-a—"

Had Ichigo not been ninety-nine percent sure that by dashing forward he'd land clean on his face he would've charged after and wrung the gangly bastard's neck -even with his lacy gloves. If he was going to do this shit he'd at least go about it with some dignity. No one would be getting under that skirt of his. No one.

Ichigo was half-way in on his hateful musings when his reverie was broken by the soft ding of the shop's entrance allowing new customers inside.

"Welcome," he picked up in palpable distaste, regarding the new arrivals with a curt, contrived nod when suddenly stiffened, eyes blanching at a particular entrant whom appeared devastatingly familiar beneath the shop's fluorescent lighting.

"No fucking way…" he mumbled, color oozing from his face. His body reacted swiftly, rocketing him with about as much grace his current situation could provide through the jamboree of customers - heels proving far from his forte as he was made to waddle like a retarded penguin. A quick study of one of the large rounded display racks confirmed it was just about the right size for him to squeeze into.

It was one thing to be seen in this humiliating getup by strangers, but by anyone who actually knew him, that was an entirely different story. One he'd rather not unravel.

With an abundant amount of resolve, Ichigo shimmied himself into the middle of the display and crouched lowly, hands hugging at his knees.

_'I'm invisible. I'm invisible. I'm invisible.'_

"Ichigo?"

_'I'm fucked.'_

His eyes crawled miserably over to the familiar girl as she peeked into the rack through a crease her thin arms had parted.

"Rukia?" he said dreadfully, taking in the image of his colleague and her questioning gaze. _'What the hell is Rukia doing here?' _he panicked. The girl was about as prone to all this stuff as a bat to daylight.

But he had only a seconds time to register her when his attention was roused by the even more familiar form of the red-headed guy beside her. An assortment of tribal tattoos layered most of his flesh and the mother of all shit-eating grins cruised his lips. "R-renji?!" Ichigo found he had no real question as to Renji though, considering if the guy could staple himself to one of his girlfriend's ass cheeks he probably would.

Ichigo felt himself begin to futilely withdraw further into the comforts of the hung fabrics.

"A cross-dresser is it?"

_'Fuck my fucking life.'_

At the baritone voice, Ichigo's eyes jarred from his two friends to the tall, polished, form of the man he now noticed peering down at him through impassive grey eyes. A head of lengthy black hair fell neatly atop long, steep shoulders. Casually attired in a slim navy blue button up, tucked neatly inside dark chinos, and a beige suede belt to complete the ensemble, the only man whom with a single glance could make Ichigo feel like a defenseless guppy in the presence of a Great White; Byakuya Kuchiki.

This couldn't be. This couldn't be happening to him!

"What are you guys doing here?!" Ichigo asked in condensed panic. He sorely rose from his inopportune hideout, hands flying to shield his wardrobe as best he could, but failing miserably.

"We came to cheer Rangiku on. I didn't know you were one of her fashion admirers Ichigo." Renji slyly remarked, head cocked in amuse.

Ichigo felt bile rise in his throat. Like hell. He was simply a hostage to a well-plotted scheme.

"N-no it's not like that you see-"

"We are not interested in your personal affairs. We are here only to support Matsumoto on her accomplishment. Leave the explanation to others." Byakuya deadpanned before sauntering off.

"It's not like that!" he tried to explain. As if the man needed any more reason to be wary of him.

"You're wearing a dress. It's all pretty clear." Rukia smugly said. "Though I've gotta say, your legs look great in that."

"_Goddammit _Rukia!"

"And just look at that fine badonk. _Mm_!" Renji joined, pantomiming a squeeze of Ichigo's cheeks and grinning madly.

Rukia laughed, suddenly fumbling through the small purse strapped to her shoulder. "I've gotta get a picture of this."

Ichigo's eyes widened in horror.

"Like hell!" he screeched and quickly skedaddled away, nearly head-diving into the floorboards in the process, before managing to disappear amidst the crowd of customers.

His eyes ablaze and fully intent on roasting someone, anyone to ashes, scanned the overcrowded shop in search of a certain wicked broad. He shuffled past the various forms, groaning a few times when he was forced to stop and give the evil eye to any overzealous gawker. At this point he was leaning towards simply stuffing his ass in a display case.

He ran into the woman who was leisurely chatting with some of her cohorts by a dessert table.

"Rangiku!" he interrupted impudently, gripping the blonde by her forearm and jerking her backwards.

"Hey, what's the deal—?"

"You never mentioned Renji, Rukia, and _Byakuya _would be here!"

"You never asked."

"Rangiku…"

"Look, I just thought it'd put more stress on you," she explained sheepishly while rubbing at the back of her neck and smiling demurely.

"You're damn right! What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Well..." she appeared to ponder briefly before chirping, "Ah!" Rangiku picked up the tray that has been resting atop the small table beside her and handed it over to the bristling red-head. "Hand these treats out to the guests, will ya? And can you like, smile? Your scowl's frightening some of the customers."

Oh he'd show her a smile alright. Right after as she shoves his foot straight up her a—

"And remember," she leaned close, lips at par with his ears. "If you wreck this for me, I will _ruin _you. Understand?" prying herself from the frazzled orangette, the blonde smiled and blew a small kiss, before meandering off to continue on with her previous frolicking, leaving Ichigo to stand dumbly, tray of goodies in hand.

X

Today more than ever, Ichigo's discomfort on account of Byakuya's presence was overwhelming. Ever since he'd been first introduced to the guy, there was something about his regard that ruffled Ichigo's feathers. The way he watched him beneath those unreadable eyes, as though sizing him up. For what? Hell if he knew. But it was unnerving. Ichigo first figured it had something to do with a misinterpretation of his and Rukia's relationship -Byakuya falling into the protective big brother category. He could have eased his worries noting the girl's lack of a penis forthright disqualified her from his pool of prospective partners. But the idea was debunked when Renji began dating the girl and Byakuya appeared to give not as much of a rat's ass on the matter. He finally resigned to the idea that Byakuya just naturally disliked him. To be honest the man's frosty demeanor intimidated the hell out of him, and the thought of being in his crossfires didn't sit too well with Ichigo. As such, he kept his distance. They rarely exchanged words and kept about as far from each other as opposing geographical poles.

But Ichigo would much prefer that over this any day.

"I do not recall you having offered me a treat."

Byakuya pestered him for the umpteenth time, promptly severing their long unspoken agreement. Earlier he'd had the actual nerve to bid Ichigo fetch him something to drink. What the hell did he look like, a maid? The man now seemed to be fully enjoying this pitiful position of his and felt not the slightest bit inclined to hide it. Ichigo was beginning to prefer his own idealized notion of the detached man. He had sworn the next time Byakuya came at him with his over-the-top superiority complex he'd gouge his eye out.

Of course when push came to shove, he simply chewed down on his lip and bit back his disdain.

"Would you-like-a…treat?" he said visibly straining, as he held out the small platter. Rangiku would have his head on a plank if he made a scene on her big day. That was fine though. He'd leave the mutilating for tomorrow.

Byakuya's lips curved ever so slightly. Ichigo realized it was the first time he'd ever seen the man smile. That was a smile right?

"I would."

"So take it."

Byakuya eyed him wordlessly, exchanging few simultaneous glances between Ichigo and the tray.

Ichigo gritted his teeth, beckoning his insides to recompose before he maimed a certain someone straight to hell.

With a thick swallow, he exhaled a breath, hand working to grab the nearest sweet at hand; in this case a miniature cupcake drizzled in heart-shaped sprinkles. Realizing just what he'd picked up, he quickly set it back down.

"No." Byakuya interrupted his action. "That'll do."

Ichigo stared up in surprise, unable to hold back the pink dusting that spread across his cheekbones.

"Whatever…" he muttered, handing the small cupcake to the man and quickly scampering off as though the blazing fires of hell were on his tail. For all intents and purposes they may as well have been, for the glances Byakuya continued showering him in were beginning to discomfort Ichigo far greater than any he look he'd ever cast his way. Ichigo would even dare say he'd actually caught the guy glancing down his ruffled tail-side a few times, a strange glint in those barren eyes of his, were it not for the fact that this _was _Byakuya Kuchiki and such a prospect was..._should be_, impossible. Besides, he was sure by now the dissecting nature of his scrutiny could be considered a Grade A sexual offense.

He shook the thought, however, and continued on about the night normally – well, about as normal as a day in a skirt could go. The girls swooning wildly at his appearance, the men pitching incorrigible tents, Rukia and Renji chasing after him like crazed hyenas, ah yes and Byakuya eyeballing him like a fucking eagle.

"Let me take the picture! Ichigo!"

"I'll pin him down for you babe!"

He swore by the end of the night he'd be dust.

X

Ichigo yawned boorishly as he muddled through the few remaining individuals blocking his path, things having calmed down considerably. And boy was he thankful. He'd somehow managed to avoid the nutty couple for the majority of the night, the only picture Rukia managed to snag being that of his stiff middle finger panned across the lens. The feeling from his feet had long been lost to the venomous heels and he was just idly managing to make his way by. His eyes remained on the prowl in search of Rangiku as his servitude would be over in just about five more minutes.

"Where the hell is she?" he grumbled, making his way towards the woman's office, anxious to finally rid himself of this hampering apparel and onto his comfortable denims and worn T.

"Hope you enjoyed the show,"

Ichigo paused at the sound of Rangiku's voice, laying off on his assault of his underwear.

"Very much."

'Byakuya? he briefly wondered at the other voice emerging from within the doorway. Ichigo curiously edged closer, quietly and smoothly inching the obstruction open a few more centimeters and squeezing his face between. Inside, Byakuya rested back against a large desk with Rangiku hovering over him.

"For a while there I thought he wasn't gonna budge. I can't believe he actually fell for it." the blonde chuckled into her palm.

"That was quite the sight." Byakuya practically growled.

Ichigo unconsciously gulped, digging his face further into the available aperture.

"Anyway, you owe me those tickets."

"When have I ever gone back on my word?"

"Not sure. Watching Ichigo in that dress might have rattled your brain a bit." Rangiku joked lightheartedly.

_'Watching...Ichigo?'_

The words simmered in his brain for about a minute before his face flushed red, everything finally coming together.

_'No fucking way...'_

And that was all it took to have him storming the premise like a raging wildebeest, flaring nostrils and all, practically barreling the door off its hinges.

Two sets of eyes met his unorthodox entry.

"I-Ichigo…" Rangiku stuttered. "What ar-"

"Get out." he hissed lowly, eyes unable to detach from the slate grey's staring back at him without the slightest hint of concern.

"Ich-"

"Get out!"

At the raw exclamation, Rangiku was left no other option than to quickly hightail it out of the office, leaving an uneasy glance to wallow the dead air. He'd deal with her later. Drain her shampoos, break her heels, hide her rum, piss in her jewelry box; Really he had plenty of ways. But right now, the one most accountable for his fury lay directly before him.

"You bribed her into blackmailing me?" he instantly pressed, hell-bent on discovering just what it was Byakuya had against him.

Byakuya remained silent, seemingly unfazed, his head swaying languidly to one side, still studying Ichigo, still with those fucking eyes. An irritating smirk rode his regularly set lips -Ichigo finding them even more disconcerting than his usual biting apathy.

"Answer me!"

"Please refrain from casting such baseless accusations, Kurosaki." the brunette finally replied nonchalantly, stirring venom in Ichigo.

"Don't fuck with me!" Ichigo stopped a few inches short of Byakuya's face and pressed his index finger threateningly against his chest. "I heard both of you talkin' just now. What the hell's this all about?"

Byakuya honed in on the finger rammed against his button up before returning to the flaring nutmeg eyes tearing holes into him. "You really shouldn't be so brash with your words."

At that moment, Ichigo saw something dangerously flash across those austere grey eyes and almost instinctively began to pull back (a little distance wouldn't hurt anyone right?), but his finger was suddenly held in place by the man.

"But if I _were _to blame, what of it?" Byakuya said lowly, a new voluptuousness dousing his words like water as his thumb lightly ran down the length of Ichigo's finger. Ichigo swallowed, the man's touch triggering his fight-or-flight reflexes and he snagged his hand away, stepping cautiously back while rubbing at the now trembling extremity.

"What the hell is your problem?" Ichigo asked, a bit too meekly. But there was something about the eyes boring into him that caused his insides to recoil, and words to lose vitality and drive.

Ichigo's gut stirred when Byakuya suddenly lifted up off the desk and began to cross over to him.

"You know, I truly hoped I would be able to contain myself." Byakuya remarked vaguely. Ichigo found himself backtracking in spite of himself. Byakuya's eyes seemed to smile at the action.

A chilling quiver swept through his vertebrae when the man finished closing their distance. Within such close range, Ichigo could feel the warmth of Byakuya's breath brush against his skin. The brunette was now directly above him, both arms hooked on either side of Ichigo, fencing him up against the wall. "But it appears I will have to make an exception tonight."

"What are you _talking _about?" Ichigo muttered quasi-strongly, almost exasperatedly. Obviously this man had finally lost his shit and would shortly ram a screwdriver through his gut. Ichigo could take him though. He hadn't spent all that cash on that yearly gym membership at Urahara Fitness for nothing. Perfect opportunity to test his leg sweep and vertical press, heels and all.

Ichigo was about to react when Byakuya's next action stopped him dead on his track.

Byakuya's pointer delicately trailed down Ichigo's Adams apple before he joined their lips in an unsuspecting embrace. Ichigo gargled a surprised gasp, inhaling sharply through his nose. His hands straightway pressed against Byakuya's gut, but they found themselves unable to flat out retaliate as his mind, initially swarmed with questioning, was consumed by one singular, most unwarranted thought...

_'Fucking christ! Whose lips are this soft?!'_

Smooth like peach skin, Ichigo mooned over in brief entrancement, reeled by the unexpected kiss, before recovering his bearings and wrenching his lips free. He instantly found, to his displeasure, the air had become sandpaper in comparison to the previous contact.

Squirming farther against the wall (as though it were possible), his palms kept Byakuya at bay as he sputtered, "What the hell was that about?!" he damned the slight quavering in his words.

Ichigo's cheeks warmed at Byakuya's intimate scrutiny, the man still so damn close the crisp yet feathery sandalwood scent of his cologne saddled Ichigo's senses - an intoxicating scent if ever any.

Ichigo mentally scolded himself.

He froze when Byakuya only cupped his chin twixt his thumb and index, recapturing his lips without a word. This time, though, he instantly swept his tongue across Ichigo's bottom lip. And would you fucking look at that, his tongue was even softer. Pure base instincts overcame Ichigo and his lids clamped shut, lips baring open like a cheap slut and beckoning Byakuya's tongue inside, his thoughts tangled and corroded by just how fucking amazing this bastard's mouth was.

Byakuya wasted no time and his appendage swiftly dove in. Ichigo groaned as it ambushed and assaulted every viable inch of his mouth with unconcealed enthusiasm and expertise, overpowering him and numbing his taste buds with the rich, tangy taste of bourbon; the man having obviously been drinking prior to this engagement. But something else, a certain sweetness Ichigo knew was a flavor all his own. Every time their tongues brushed, a shiver lapsed from the very tip of Ichigo's head to the ends of his toes, igniting each of his nerves in its stead and setting them ablaze.

Ichigo, in spite of every cell in his body flaring with aching indulgence, again forcefully parted, allowing oxygen to once more circulate his veins in proper bouts. And in doing so, hoping to regain some control over the situation. But he suddenly felt weak at the knees.

There had never been any denying the Kuchiki male's beauty, hell even a blind man could see it, but his allure was ofttimes overshadowed by Ichigo's intimidation of the guy. But as Ichigo stood now, firmly paralyzed, watching the man who'd made his lips feel like premature virgins; his breaths thick and sated, eyes glazed in want, and lips glistening with their encounter's dewy residue, Ichigo realized he'd never witnessed anyone sexier in his life.

Byakuya's hand strayed beneath Ichigo's ruffled skirt, landing atop one of his perfectly round cheeks and squeezing firmly, a slight curve to those wet lips. "You are every bit as decadent as I imagined."

Ichigo felt his cock twitch against the inside of his thigh at the remark.

_'Fuck...'_

Ichigo shook his head firmly, forcing himself from his daze and shameless arousal. Pushing Byakuya away, he staggered back, stumbling against the desk in the tight space. He braced himself with one arm, and pulled the other defensively in front of him.

"Wait, this-what?" he breathlessly began, mind too rattled to produce a proper sentence. He steadied himself, inhaling deeply and slowing his uptake. "I ... I don't understand. Why are you doing this?" This being the same man who just a few seconds ago his heels had been so willfully trained to squash like a bug and whom he'd been, at least up to this point, relatively sure wished the same fate upon him. And what in bloody hells was he doing kissing him? With those _goddamn _lips. Jesus.

Byakuya arched an elegant brow. "What is there to understand?" He patched the distance, gripping Ichigo by the wrist and twisting so that his back was to him. Ichigo sucked in a fistful of air when Byakuya ground up against him. "You're beautiful." he breathed into Ichigo's neck, placing a soft kiss onto the skin. The shivers carried straight to Ichigo's groin.

"But you-" Ichigo bit his lip as Byakuya began to lightly suckle at the thin flesh beneath his jaw, a cove of pleasurable sensations and his most erogenous zone. He unconsciously buckled, head mindlessly careening to allow the man better access. "and...Rang—" he continued absently between heavy listless breaths, the words lacking intent as he was entirely too captivated by the sensations riveting his joints to care anymore. Between every exceptionally rough suck and nip to the delicate flesh of Ichigo's throat, Byakuya's tongue lapped soothingly at the chafing skin as though in apology, only working to spike Ichigo's madness as all his blood convened in his already heavily exacerbated loins.

As though reading his lewd thoughts, Byakuya's free hand waltzed beneath Ichigo's skirt again, this time finding and kneading at his straining erection through the satin laced panties he'd had the dire stupidity of agreeing to wear, the garment already soused in his precum. Ichigo's cheeks burned bright. He began to shuffle away in embarrassment having briefly forgotten his current dilemma, but Byakuya's firm grasp on his hip and arousal pinned him steady. The man's rubbing intensified and an especially rough, immobilizing, squeeze rocked his throbbing sack.

"Sshitt-" Ichigo moaned, dipping his head against Byakuya's shoulder. He bit down on his lower lip, damn near ready to break the flesh when his mouth was replaced by Byakuya's mouth and he hungrily obliged. Their tongues swiped and stroked greedily, almost desperately. Ichigo finally allowed himself be buried in the man's taste, seeking more and more of it with each suck and swerve of his tongue.

"Let me play with you," Byakuya whispered heavily into the kiss, the warm, milky baritone falling over Ichigo like smooth velvet, pebbling his skin like sand.

Ichigo nodded hastily, reclaiming the luscious mouth. He could feel Byakuya's hands skillfully work to unhook the dress. A startled gasp strewed past his lips when Byakuya suddenly hoisted him up, propping him atop the desk. Fingers threading into the lengthy black mane, Ichigo tugged at the captured tufts forcefully. Byakuya only hissed, biting Ichigo's tongue in reprimanding. And fuck did it drive Ichigo mad.

The garment fell loosely from Ichigo's shoulders, gathering at his hips, exposing a tan, toned chest. Byakuya's hands wasted no time in roving the skin, fingers dipping and cresting over every subtle groove of Ichigo's abdomen.

"Such exquisite skin," Byakuya spoke again in that silvery, luscious baritone, through lust-laden eyes. "You truly are a glorious specimen."

Ichigo's gaze veered bashfully to the side.

This man sure knew what it took to get in your panties. Quite literally at the moment.

After removing the damnable intimate from Ichigo's hip, Ichigo cooperating excitedly and glaring daggers at the pink article -Byakuya only eyeballing it with a certain satisfaction, Byakuya's lips began to work every inch of his body. When not latching onto his nipples, nipping and sucking intermittently till bruising, the man was on a thorough escapade with his tongue throughout every accessible inch of Ichigo's body, his hand simultaneously pumping Ichigo's erection in his warm palms, carrying from the base of his shaft to the tip of his sensitive head, thumb rubbing and corking his madly leaking slit before rerouting to his aching sack and molding till Ichigo's vision went blue. Ichigo was in absolute drunken bliss.

Panting, Ichigo's nails dug into Byakuya's shoulders, "Byakuya..." he moaned, gyrating his hips into his touch. He began rubbing his heel-clad foot against Byakuya's stiff cock through his pants, smiling inwardly at the expression that crossed the man's face. "Ooh fuckk," Ichigo banged his head against Byakuya's shoulder blade. He was so close, so goddamn close. He hewed his hands to the back of Byakuya's shirt, bunching the fabric desperately. "Byakuya, I don't mean to be hasty and all but...hnng shitt..." Ichigo bit down on the brunette's shoulder, feeling his arousal begin to reach its peak. "If you're gonna fuck m- i'm gonna need you t-hahh... Ah shit... i'm gonna...i'm gonna..."

A delicious shiver whipped through his spine when a low rumbling, almost nonexistent, one syllable chuckle stretched from the man's throat and he responded in that sexy, leveled monotone of his,

"Go ahead, kitten." with a soft lick to Ichigo's lip. And that did it.

Ichigo cried out as his load spilled all over Byakuya's hands. His body spasmed in the man's grasp, and he went lax in the heat of his orgasm, lulling back onto the desk -with Byakuya's guidance- spread-eagled and legs dangling over the edge.

Through half-lidded, glassy hazels, Ichigo watched the man across from him taking him in as he rid out his sexual high. Chest heaving, he draped his arm over his eyes, body easing into a state of relaxation beneath the sultry gaze.

The calm was short-lived, however, when Byakuya's hand began gingerly stroking the filmy flesh of his inner thigh. His breath hitched when the man's finger -part of the hand still drenched in Ichigo's cum- prodded at his entrance, pearly orbs still fastened on him. His hole inadvertently shook at the subtle contact and he found his near-flaccid erection begin to liven beneath Byakuya's scrutiny. Byakuya's now-perpetual smirk reinstated itself onto his lips over what Ichigo could tell was due to his whorish hole's eagerness. His face burned and while he tried desperately to control his desire, it was now damn near impossible, his ass begging for some real contact.

Byakuya willingly complied, in a timely manner driving three of his fingers successfully through Ichigo's tight ring of muscles with almost shameful ease. But hell, Ichigo couldn't deny just how badly he wanted the man and apparently neither could his privates. Ichigo hummed in pleasure as the man's extremities explored his insides, deliciously stroking his inner walls, fire blazing when they struck a significantly sensitive spot within him that rendered him blind and left his lips mewling like an injured feline.

"Oh fuck Byakuya, Byakuya..." he continued to recite in a trance-like state, till his glazed eyes partially unscrewed to notice Byakuya now working to undo his belt, freeing the brick-hard erection that had been trapped within his pants and all its glory.

'Holy fucking shit...'

His eyes bulged in awe, Byakuya being much larger than he'd ever expected, his dick so stiff he could make out every veiny bulge protruding from the curved shaft.

Ichigo swallowed thickly as realization struck him; that sexy rods main conquest being none other than Ichigo's own tight hole. His gut clenched, lips becoming inexplicably parched. And through it all he still found himself more caught up on just how badly he wanted it in his mouth. Curse his feeble mind.

Ichigo's hand carried itself atop Byakuya's hand, his fingers still very much fucking him, and stilled the motion, withholding a whine at the sudden offset of the sensation. But he wanted this even more.

"Byakuya, let me taste it." He removed Byakuya's fingers from his entrance and lifted himself onto his arms. Surprise and lust spilled from the brunette's gaze, clearly taken back by the blunt, lewd request.

When he was near parallel to Byakuya's hip, Ichigo gripped the sensational appendage in his laced-up hands, gliding his tongue up the veiny groves of the underside of his dick, smiling to himself when feeling a smooth jolt roll through Byakuya, cuing Ichigo's lips to hungrily swoop, in utter bliss over his delectable taste. He absorbed the entire thing in his mouth, lips wrapping tightly around the base of his shaft and tears welling in his eyes. With his own lustful humming and moans his tongue swerved around every corner of the man's length, teasing his head, his slit, his balls till Byakuya finally spilled those deliciously subtle sounds Ichigo so very much craved -mostly just series of sighs and silent hisses, but oh so very satisfying. Ichigo craved every last bit of the sexy devil's hot juice, and worked diligently to make it so.

He grumbled in distaste when Byakuya freed his cock from his swollen lips suddenly. But the gaze he now bathed him in was enough to have Ichigo's complaints swiftly dispelled and his legs spreading faster than a sex-starved nympho.

Byakuya aligned himself perfectly to Ichigo's entrance, his hand lifting the frilled dress pooling at Ichigo's hip higher up his axis and began to caress Ichigo's waist as he steadily drove his now saturated cock past Ichigo's entrance. Ichigo groaned silently, head lolling mindlessly side to side when Byakuya fully infiltrated him and his ass whined in initial discomfort.

"Ah damn..." he mumbled, knuckles clenching and eyes squeezing shut.

Byakuya leaned over him and kissed his lidded eyes, whispering, "You feel amazing..."

That sinful bastard.

Ichigo couldn't understand the drug-like effect Byakuya's words had over his body, because it was as though just then all the aching disappeared, replaced by a throbbing thirst only Byakuya could satisfy.

"Yeah?" Ichigo smiled cunningly, wrapping his arms around the man's neck, and shifting slightly beneath him. "Make me think the same."

Byakuya's brow curved in amusement and he pressed his forehead against Ichigo's. "Is that a challenge?" he purred in a low mouthwatering timbre.

His ass practically shook with that one.

"Mm," He bit down on Byakuya's lip and ground his stiff erection against Byakuya's stomach. "you tell me."

And in a delicious rush of carnal indulgence, the world around him soon blurred into oblivion. Because Byakuya was fucking him with such bestial ferocity, withdrawing near fully before barreling in to the very hilt, his insides had become putty. The room was shortly filled with Ichigo's unrestrained whimpers, moans and curses. Even through the man's fierceness, his movements still retained perfect precision and control, as with only a slight pivot to his hips, he'd managed to pinpoint the lovely niche within Ichigo effortlessly, zeroing in solely on it upon contact, and driving the red-head's body into a frenzy of elated convulsions and sexual lunacy. Ichigo's legs lodged onto his back, fingers clawing at it frantically as the man destroyed his insides with his amazing girth.

"S-so goodd," Ichigo squirmed, hip lifting from the desk to allow Byakuya's savory cock to drive even further into him (If it were even possible). Because hell, he wanted every last bit of the man.

Their lips collided insatiably, messily. The wet slurps of their tongues' onslaught and the slapping of skin against skin filled the room as Byakuya's hands snaked behind Ichigo to firmly squeeze and part his ass as he continued ramming into him.

The fire within Ichigo's loins was full to bursting, amplified by the low and luscious grunts Byakuya had begun emitting with each delicious thrust. When Byakuya began pumping Ichigo's erection, he knew the man was equally reaching his limits.

Ichigo lounged his head back, breaking the kiss at long last, ready to spurt his seed when Byakuya, through glassy eyes, murmured almost painfully,

"Ichigo..."

Rivulets of cum exploded from Ichigo's cock, bathing his and Byakuya's stomachs in a milky paste. His body shook, his ass clenching onto the intruding heat, and his hands held onto Byakuya for dear life as the electricity from his orgasm raided his body in a ruling jolt before subsiding into a mellow pulse.

After a few more firm strokes, Byakuya's own warm nectar filled Ichigo's insides and with a satisfying sigh he slumped over Ichigo, bracing himself onto his elbows so as not to get any more of Ichigo's passion onto his already soiled shirt.

They lingered silently as their bodies fell back into their natural rhythms.

Ichigo's eyes lazily flickered open, his body drained to the core. A small blissful smile played at his lips as Byakuya's thumb gently caressed his sweaty cheek and jawline.

"Rangiku may not be too thrilled to discover the condition of your wardrobe." Byakuya almost slyly remarked, a perfect, barely curving smile Ichigo knew would soon become his newest obsession, drawn across his face.

Ichigo eyed the article completely doused in his semen. Somehow it seemed like an improvement.

He shrugged. "Like I care. 'Sides, yours isn't in any better shape." He grinned at the cum-splattered button-up dressing such refined man.

Byakuya skimmed his lips along Ichigo's, barely touching, but his warmth still feathering the red-heads lips. "I hope you plan on making up for that." he whispered lowly.

Light goosebumps splayed themselves across Ichigo's skin. He swallowed a sigh. He'd probably have to get used to that too.

"An eye for an eye."

Byakuya arched a brow.

"The dress." Ichigo muttered with a scowl, a mere stunt as he no longer found himself upset over the matter.

Byakuya chuckled, finger snatching the large bow from atop Ichigo's head and running it gracefully down Ichigo's neck.

"I find it suits you."

Ichigo snorted, threading his fingers into the sweat-sodden black strands. "You're a sick man." he said before closing the distance between their lips and kissing Byakuya sweetly.

X

Rangiku sighed as she ambled tiredly into her office. Though some slight technical difficulties, the night had been an overall success. She should probably thank Ichigo for that. Maybe even apologize. She'd pick up one of his favorite desserts from the nearby confectioners and make amends. The guy was a sucker for anything sweet.

The blonde slumped back onto the swivel chair behind her desk. She was stuffing few belongings from the drawers into her purse, preparing to call it a night, when it hit her. A certain odor, vaguely familiar wafted beneath her nostrils. Her nose scrunched and flared trying to decipher it. Before she could, her eyes fell on a crumpled, dainty pink article flimsily sprawled over her desk.

Her gut riled.


End file.
